


Crutch

by ZedElla (Leviarty)



Series: The Story of Lorne [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: s01e01-e02 Rising, Episode: s07e22 Lost City (2), M/M, hints at pre-Lorne/Parrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2015-07-31
Packaged: 2018-04-12 04:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4465811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leviarty/pseuds/ZedElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lorne is out of commission when they start recruiting people for the Atlantis Expedition, but that doesn't stop him from trying to get his name on the list.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crutch

**Author's Note:**

> the fic that merges my frustration with Lorne joining the expedition late with my new love of Lorne/Shep.
> 
> Takes place after SG1: Lost City, through the beginning of SGA: Rising, with references to SG1: Avalon

He had been a pilot for most of his Air Force career – going through the Stargate was a recent development, but one he loved, maybe just as much as he loved flying.

It came as no surprise when his name made the short list of F-302 pilots to defend SG-1 over Antarctica. They all knew what the list really was: likely to die defending the outpost. But that didn’t stop him from strapping in, calling his sister to tell her he loved her, before heading down the runway.

Mitchell led them out, Mitchell, who had been flying 302s almost since their inception, who had been the one to train Lorne when he first joined. He was honored to be his wingman, even if he sometimes thought Mitchell was a little stiff. He was a damn good pilot after all.

They went down over Antarctica, but by some miracle, the both survived. They spent nearly two months sharing a room in an Air Force hospital. Evan thought they might make good friends, if they managed to get out of the hospital without being utterly sick of the sight of each other.

They each received a dozen visits from SGC personnel – SG-1 coming to thank them, generals to offer them commendation. Mitchell got more admiration, being that he was the leader, but also because his recovery period looked much graver. Evan didn’t mind, was never too fond of the spotlight anyway.

In the copious amounts of time he was cooped up in bed, he read dozens of books, more than he’d read since he graduated from the academy, on a whole variety of topics. Mitchell, meanwhile, read mission reports, hundreds of them, day after day. That was the difference between them, Lorne realized. Mitchell had only ever been a pilot, while Lorne had served on SG-teams, had worked alongside SG-1 a handful of times. What Mitchell felt was hero-worship, where Lorne felt mild irritation. Sure, he liked SG-1, knew they were an excellent team, best of the best. He also thought they were a magnet for trouble.

“Got an interest in medince, do ya?” Dr. Beckett asked, noting his reading choice.

Evan shrugged. “I was a field medic.” Which was a bit of an understatement, because he had also studied medicine in school, and might have gone on to become an Air Force doctor if the SGC hadn’t come alone.

“What have you got for us today, Doctor?” Mitchell asked.

“Well, Colonel, I’m happy to inform you that your physical therapy begins tomorrow. It won’t be a pleasant process, but I’m sure you’ll make it though. I regret that I won’t be able to see you through it.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’ve been transferred to McMurdo.” In any other situation, it might have sounded like a punishment; it was widely considered the ass end of the earth, the assignment only given to washouts and people who just couldn’t make it work anywhere else. Evan knew of at least one person who’d been sent there as punishment for a colossal fuckup.

“Oh, your genetic studies impressed a few people?” Lorne asked.

“Aye. We’ve made incredible breakthroughs. I must admit, I don’t look forward to the cold, but I am a wee excited.”

 

Evan was released a few days later, after submitting to a half dozen blood tests, and proving that he could walk a reasonable distance without getting dizzy.

“I envy you,” Mitchell said. Evan knew it wouldn’t be much different, because he was still off active duty for the foreseeable future, so the only real difference between them now, was that Evan got to spend the rest of his recovery in the comfort of his own bed, instead of being subjected to excruciating physical therapy in the all too sterile hospital.

“I’ll come back to visit,” Evan assured him.

Mitchell reached out to shake his hand. “Do me a favor: don’t.”

Evan cracked a smile. “Yes, sir.”

 

He spent several days wandering around the SGC, looking for something to entertain himself, but was completely unsuccessful. He ended up in a botany lab, listening to a very excitable doctor crone on about some miraculous plant that had been discovered on P84-020. As far as scientists went, Parrish wasn’t too bad – overly energetic, sure, but nice enough, and didn’t seem bothered by the fact that Lorne wasn’t actually listening to _what_ he was saying so much as just listening to him talk.

On the fourth day, Colonel Carter all but pushed him into an elevator (he was still leaning a sizable amount of his weight on a crutch, and as such, she was concerned he might fall over if she pushed him too hard) and escorted him to the surface. “General O’Neill has said you are to leave the base and not return except for your scheduled check-ups,” she told him.

“But I’m so bored,” he whined. He was glad the general sent Sam though; anyone else and he would have felt like he couldn’t engage in a little good-natured complaining.

“Call your sister, invite some friends over for a movie night, _get some rest_.”

He didn’t point out that his sister had already spent weeks at his bedside, and that his circle of friends consisted mostly of people who were off world half the time, or else were former colleagues he only talked to twice a year.

 

On his next scheduled visit, the doctor (he couldn’t for the life of him remember the name of the man that had replaced Fraiser) handed him a stack of test results. He flipped through them idly, not much caring what they had to say. One caught his eyes, with the words “ATA positive” stamped across the top. “Hey, doc, what’s this mean?”

The doctor looked over it. “Dr. Beckett’s research on Ancient technology revealed that there is a specific gene that allows people to use it. Everyone in the SGC was tested for the possible Atlantis mission.”

“Atlantis mission,” he repeated. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard those words, but most of what he’d heard sounded a bit like it was a bigfoot sighting – might be real but probably wasn’t.

 

He hobbled into the general’s office – O’Neill gave him a look that said he might kick the crutch out from under him if he didn’t get his ass off base immediately – and said, “So rumor has it Dr. Weir is collecting personnel with this Ancient Gene for some top secret mission to the city of the Ancients.”

“Assuming we can find the city, yes, she is,” he answered slowly.

“And they’re working in Antarctica trying to learn more from the chair?”

“You’re not going, Major.”

“Sir-”

“Final answer. You’re still out of commission, I’m not sending you back there.”

 

Later, he started to hear rumors about a Sheppard worming his way into the program, and certainly it couldn’t be his Sheppard, not the man who’d narrowly avoided getting kicked out of the Air Force for defying a direct order. But then, how many Sheppards were flying choppers in Antarctica? He guessed not many.

Still he was surprised to see his old friend in the SGC.

“Shep!” he called out, his attempts to speed up futile.

“Lorne? I didn’t know you were…” Well, of course he didn’t know, what with the Stargate being highly classified.

“Yeah, little over a year now. I hear you’ve earned yourself an all expense paid trip to the Pegasus galaxy. How’s that for your first trip through the Stargate?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearly having no idea what he should say. “So, what happened to you?” he waved in the general direction of Evan’s bad leg.

“Little skirmish over Antarctica, no big.”

“Yeah, I heard about that.” Heard the cliff’s notes version, along with the abridged history of the SGC.

“Lorne, that had better not be you down there,” he heard O’Neill shout. He flinched at the sound. “Do I have to have you forcibly removed?”

“No sir, just catching up with my old buddy here.” They had served together before Afghanistan, before the Stargate.

“Should’ve known you two troublemakers were friends. Maybe you can get him out of my hair for more than twenty minutes.”

A smile twitched onto Sheppard’s face as they watched O’Neill walk away. “What’d you do to get on his bad side?”

“I politely asked if I could join the Atlantis team,” he said, which an air of innocence Sheppard saw right through. “Maybe eight times.”

Sheppard laughed.

“I’m going crazy. They won’t let me off world at all, not until my leg heals.”

Sheppard was a little surprised; while he was all too familiar with being disliked by his superiors, he’d never seen a CO legitimately annoyed at Lorne (though, he doubted just how annoyed O’Neill really was).

“Hey, you got any plans?”

“I’ve got to see Dr. Astor for my physical, but I’m free after. Got something in mind?”

“I know a place that serves the best steak in the Milky Way. Figure you could use one good meal before heading into the unknown.”

“You’re on.”

“Meet me on level 18 after your physical.”

 

“You’re in a very good mood today,” Parrish said, ogling a purple-ish flower. Lorne didn’t know how he could possibly tell his mood, given that he’d never once looked up.

“Met up with an old friend,” he said with a shrug. “Haven’t seen him in a while, so we’re gonna hang out later.”

“Hmm. Your mouth says friend, but your face says fuck buddy.”

Lorne nearly choked on his coffee.

“Sorry,” Parrish said. “I forget you people have weird conventions on what you’re allowed to talk about.”

“I was actually more surprised to hear you say _fuck_.”

“Oh.”

“But also the other thing. If you could not say anything about that, that would be good.”

“I haven’t said anything before now, have I?” Parrish asked.

“Wait… how long have you known?” Lorne liked to think he was pretty discrete about his preference – he had to be.

“Since P4X-112,” Parrish said after a moment’s thought. Lorne had never quite grasped the naming of planets, but he was pretty sure that was the first time his team had escorted the botanist offworld. That was… concerning. “Don’t fret, Major. I’d venture a guess that I pick up on these things a little better than your prejudiced colleagues.”

Lorne took that to mean he might have been of the same persuasion, but didn’t ask.

“So where are you taking him?” he asked. “You know, O’Malley’s has great steak.”

There came a knock from the open doorway. “Rumor has it a gimpy Major likes to hang out in the botany lab.”

Lorne smiled back at him. “Just in time, I’m famished. Oh, this is Dr. Parrish. David, this is Major John Sheppard.”

They shook hands, and the grin Parrish sent him was so far from subtle, he questioned why they were ever friends in the first place. But there was no denying that John was gorgeous, so he let it slide.

“Have fun, you two,” Parrish said, bidding them goodbye.

“What an odd man,” Sheppard said as they walked down the hall.

“Don’t get me started.”

 

They sat down at O’Malley’s for a while, laughing over food and beer. Lorne was struck by how much he’d missed this; John was better company than most of his Air Force buddies, and though it had been years since they’d seen one another, they still got on like best friends.

“You got a place in Colorado Springs?” Evan asked.

John shook his head. “Only here for a few days. Figured I’d get a hotel.”

“Or you could crash at my place,” he said, knowing just how subtle he wasn’t. He smiled at Sheppard, raising his eyebrows in question.

Sheppard smiled back at him. “Yeah?”

“Yep. I’ve got an excellent bed, and the promise of something better than rubbery pancakes and pre-packaged muffins for breakfast.”

“Okay,” he agreed, somewhat surprising Evan. “Hey, you said it, I gotta fill up on the good stuff while I can.” Evan knew he meant food, but suspected he almost meant sex.

They wandered out to Evan’s car, his free arm slung over John’s shoulder.

“Is there steak on other planets?” John asked after a few minutes. Evan wondered how long this question had been riding on his mind.

“Um… not really? I have yet to read about a planet that has actual cows, but there are a few that have vaguely similar livestock. They don’t taste as good though. Maybe you’ll find a real cow in Pegasus.”

“Seems unlikely though, doesn’t it.”

 

They were halfway through Evan’s apartment door when John’s lips took him by surprise. He laughed, kissing him back with equal intensity. He was almost surprised John hadn’t tried something in the car. John helped him in and closed the door behind them, then kissed him again.

“Ow, ow,” Evan cringed as he caught his bad leg on a piece of furniture.

“Sorry,” John said. He took the crutch and leaned it against the wall, the wrapped Evan’s arms around his shoulders, taking most of his weight off his leg, then resumed kissing him. He guided them into the bedroom, as though he had some kind of radar.

John tugged off Evan’s shirt before lowering him to the bed, then removed his own shirt and joined him.

His hands were smooth and careful, and though it had been years, their bodies were still so familiar, like no time had passed between them.

And yeah, he had missed this too.

 

One of the things he liked about John, or rather, this thing he had with John – it was never complicated. It was never serious enough to get complicated. It was best friends having sex, occasionally going on dates, but it was never really a relationship. It made it almost easy to say goodbye a few days later, when the Atlantis team was finally ready to depart.

 

“Good luck out there,” Evan said to Parrish, helping him strap his pack to his back. He struggled with it a little, still having to lean part of his weight on his crutch, but David would never have been able to get it on his own. “Don’t let the grunts push you around too much.”

“I’ll be fine. Unless things go horribly wrong and we all die. Now, shouldn’t you be saying goodbye to that precious piece of man-candy, instead of me?”

“Please never say man-candy again. And no, I already said goodbye. Several times.”

“Good for you,” Parrish said with a grin.

“Please stop talking.” God why was he friends with him. “Good luck,” he said again, more seriously.

“Thank you. I hope you’ll be able to join us soon. Now you should probably get out of here before O’Neill spots you and thinks you’re trying to sneak through with us.”

Lorne laughed and patted his shoulder, then limped away from the Gateroom, passing Sheppard on his way. “Good luck,” he said.

“See you soon.”

He hoped he would.


End file.
